


You said that life can't be what you want

by Eldis (orphan_account)



Category: Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-26
Updated: 2012-04-26
Packaged: 2017-11-04 08:42:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/391932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Eldis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawkeye and Hulk seem to be hitting off in an entirely new way, but how does Bruce Banner feel about it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	You said that life can't be what you want

Uncomfortable silence. A clock ticked on softly on the night stand, but right then each tick felt like a loud bang. The air in the room felt stuffy and difficult to breathe in. The duvet was heavy on top of him and made him feel hotter still. Clint pushed it aside, prompting the man next to him to yank the entire thing to himself. There were some vague memories of the night before. Perhaps it would have been better not to touch the whisky Tony had so generously been pouring into his glass, but he hadn’t been able to help himself. It had tasted too good.

A near-silent groan escaped Clint’s lips as he brought his hand up to his forehead. It felt uncomfortable against his clammy forehead, however, so he moved it to rest on his chest. Little by little, the previous night’s events became clearer in his mind as he thought about the whisky.

Yesterday had been very eventful for the Avengers. Hydra had reared its head once more with yet another plan. Hawkeye had not been able to find out anything about it and had instead ended up in distress that he’d only gotten out of thanks to Black Panther. He knew, of course, that going against so many men alone had been foolhardy at best, but he’d been desperate to find out something, anything before the enemy slipped away. Besides, the others had taken too long to show up – what else could he have done?

Nevertheless, Clint felt he had failed. Upon his return to the Avengers Mansion, he’d had half a mind to throw all his equipment away and be done with it all. Something had stopped him, however, and he’d just set his quiver against the wall and claimed the nearest armchair as a place to sulk. He’d sat behind closed doors, his arms folded and his gaze nailed to the wall until Tony Stark had entered the room, closing the door behind himself.

Talk. Lot’s of it, from Tony’s mouth – or so Clint thought he remembered it. He’d been pointedly ignoring Stark since he’d entered the room. The only thing to get his attention at all had been the glass of Whisky that had been thrust into his hand, accompanied by the words: ‘Everyone makes mistakes’. Well, not Clint. Not the kind he’d made earlier that day, at least. But one reaps what one sows. And so he’d downed a glass of whisky, then another, and possibly a third one. Maybe even more than that?

_Oh dear God, my head._

The corridor had seemed longer than it should have been and he could swear it had been tilting from side to side. He could remember walking past Captain America, who had asked him if he was all right. If memory served, Clint had just waved his hand to indicate it was nothing to worry about. Just when he’d made it to the door to his room and put his hand on the handle - fully intending to fall into his bed and possibly never get up again – he was stopped by a gruff voice from behind him.

”Cupid let Hydra escape. Hulk came to -”

”If you came here to start something, you can just get lost right now,” Hawkeye, who felt he was irritated enough already, had said. He’d turned around to face Hulk. He remembered, vividly now, that he’d stared defiantly into Hulk’s eyes for a time in case the guy couldn’t take a hint and just go away.

”Hulk came to see if you are all right,” the green-skinned goliath had said, bending down a bit to examine Hawkeye closer. At least, that’s what it had seemed like.

”Oh -um,” was the only response Clint had been able to give in his surprise. He’d felt like an even bigger fool for assuming Hulk would have come to deride him – why would he have? Well, obviously the communication between the two of them was always full of barbs, but the situation had been different. Plus Clint had been fairly certain that everyone in the mansion knew of his screw-up. Besides that, he and Hulk got along extremely well, at least in Clint’s own opinion. As for Hulk’s view of the matter, well, he’d never avoided Clint’s company and the usage of a nickname like ”Cupid” spoke of a sort of bond between them. Clint liked to think that he and Hulk were, in fact, friends.

”Look, Jade Jaws, I’m sorry,” he’d finally said with a heavy sigh. Should not have been wasting energy on fretting about something that could not be changed anymore.

”Cupid look tired. Rest,” Hulk had said in a knowing tone.

”Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Clint had replied, all of a sudden seeing Hulk in a different light. ”Thanks,” he’d said, and before he’d even had the time to think it through, done something he would never have had the guts to do sober. He had stepped closer and, before Hulk could straighten up, looked up into those green eyes and done it, just like that. He’d planted a quick, clumsy kiss right onto Hulk’s lips.

_Oh shit!_

The next thing, as Clint remembered it, had been a growl from Hulk and thick arms wrapping around him and lifting him off the floor effortlessly.

”Oh, god! I’m sorry, I’m sorry -” Clint had repeated, squirming in Hulk’s hold.

What had been surprising was that Hulk had not gone on a rampage of any kind, threatened to bash Clint’s head in or crushed his bones into a fine dust. Instead, he’d stared at Hawkeye as if not knowing what to do with him.

”Cupid kiss Hulk?”

”Yeah, sorry about that.” Clint had not had the nerve to look Hulk in the eye. ”Could you put me down?” he’d added hastily. He had now made two major blunders in one day, both so embarrassing that he’d been seriously considering never getting up again if he’d ever manage to reach his bed.

”Cupid likes…Hulk?” Hulk had asked, sounding more confused than anything.

”What?” Clint’s had just stared at his green-skinned friend in perplexion. To think that such a small gesture could have betrayed so much – to Hulk especially. And Hulk had been absolutely spot-on with his deduction: Clint did like him, and it went deeper than friendship or comrade-in-arms. He had not, however, ever planned on telling anyone, least of all Hulk himself. He had been fairly certain that no one would understand, and absolutely certain that his feelings would not be reciprocated. In all honesty, he had not been certain that Hulk could even feel that kind of affection.

”Cupid likes Hulk?” Hulk had repeated.

Clint had bit his lip lightly and finally decided to face Hulk eye to eye.

”All right, yes, I do. You freaking happy now? Put me down.”

But his feet had failed to meet the floor and the tree-trunk arms wrapped around him had refused to let go. An uncomfortable tension had made its way between the two Avengers and Hawkeye had been sure that if they stayed like that for a while longer, that tension might actually become tangible.

”Hulk likes Cupid too,” had been the frankly astounding response, which had made Clint give his green-skinned friend an incredulous look.

It had to be a joke. Right?

”You’re kidding me, right?” the archer had said, unable to wipe the disbelief from his face. Hulk had just shaked his head.

”Oh my… oh,” Clint had begun, but he’d been unable to find the words to adequately describe his surprise and shock.

He’d settled on a different approach, ”Do you think you could put me down?” Perhaps this time he would feel the floor under his feet.

There had been no verbal response, but Hulk’s smile, which bordered on mischievous, had been answer enough. And all Clint could remember after that was Hulk draping him over his broad shoulders like a towel and stepping into Clint’s room.

_Oh my God. Did I? Did it? Did we? Crap._

And the uncomfortable silence went on. Having pieced most of the previous night together, Clint’s next impulse was to check what, if anything, he was wearing. He closed his eyes and, unwilling to look, slowly moved his hand down his chest and under the covers. His hand drifted past his abdomen and came to a stop when he felt the waistband of his boxers. What a relief!

Hawkeye opened his eyes and turned his head to look at the pile of bedclothes next to him.

”Bruce, you awake?” he asked and was unable to keep a small smile of relief creeping onto his lips.

”What do you think?” was the slightly muffled response from under the duvet.

”Um, yes?” the archer said, trying to gauge the situation. ”You wouldn’t happen to have an idea of just what happened last night? My memory is a bit fuzzy after the part where I came in here with Hulk.”

”Please, don’t talk to me,” Bruce said. The duvet moved a bit and revealed first a tuft of brown hair and then Bruce’s face.

”Like, right now?” Clint said and pushed himself up into a half-sitting position on his elbows.

”Ever,” Bruce said calmly, giving Clint a once-over before getting out of the bed with the duvet and heading for the door.

”But -” Hawkeye said, trying to sit up properly.

”I mean it. Never talk to me again, Clint Barton.” With that, Bruce slammed the door shut, leaving Hawkeye to sit dumbstruck on his bed.


End file.
